FULL

Dear Thomas,

Our lives are full these days.

Full of running around the apartment (with your momma getting tired far sooner than you). You are a bundle of energy, and as tired as it makes me, I'm so grateful you're so healthy and energetic.

Full of snack time; your favorites are cheese sticks, Simply Cheetos Cheese Puffs - White Cheddar, veggie straws, and dried blueberries/cherries. You've got pretty good taste, buddy.

Speaking of food, our lives are full of crunchy, sticky floors. When you're finished eating, you insist on tossing all your un-eaten food onto the floor. Your sippy cups, too. Your dad and I are trying to teach you to not do that, but you're not taking to the idea very well.

Full of silly noises; you walk around growling constantly, and I get the impression that you love chasing Donna around the house while you growl like some sort of wild thing. I love that growl of yours. You blow raspberries all. the time. I don't mind it terribly; it's pretty funny most of the time. But I don't love when you blow giant, slimy raspberries at church. It's very distracting to everyone within earshot. You've always been quite "verbal," but it's happening more regularly these days. You jabber frequently, and often with passion. Also, you make this little bubbly sound with your lips, and it sounds exactly like the flying car from The Jetsons. Oh, Tommy, it's really cute and pretty hilarious.

Full of little tantrums. I'm not sure what sets you off half the time, but you sure do let us know when you're even the teensiest bit annoyed. You typically have utter disregard for the word "no," but sometimes you start to cry when we say it, as if we've physically harmed you. It's the saddest thing, and I promise I don't say "no" just for fun.

Full of messes. You're like a tornado, my boy. This might be the hardest part of my life right now--but  I'm pretty sure it's your favorite part. I'll start cleaning up one of your messes, and just as I'm finishing, you look over and remember how fun that thing is to play with, and you mess it up again while I'm straightening up another one of your messes. It's a vicious cycle. And know this, Thomas, I'm going to teach you to clean as soon as possible. And one day when it makes legitimate sense, you won't get to play with another toy until your last toy is cleaned up. I'm looking forward to your future help on this, kid.

Full of fatigue, especially on my end. We had you sleep trained for a handful of glorious weeks, and then you got sick with croup, and teething hit full-force, and it all fell by the wayside. Most nights, you wake up at least twice, screaming for a binky you can't find + demanding snuggles. I know I need to just start retraining you to self-soothe and all that crap, but I'm so tired right now that it's easier to bring you to bed until you're calm and then put you back in your crib. I'm determined to kick sleep training into high gear over Christmas break.

Full of no-no's and redirection. You, my young lad, get into everything lately, most especially the books in the bookcase in the front room. And the Lazy Susan in the kitchen. And the dishwasher (turning it on whenever you see fit). The list goes on, bug. We've taken to closing all the doors to keep you from making messes in all the rooms, but we don't have a kitchen door, so we have to redirect you all. the time.

Full of giggles. You've got the greatest laugh, and it's my favorite sound in all the land. I can't make you laugh nearly as hard as your dada can, but anytime I hear you giggle, I melt on the spot.

Full of story time. I love that you love books! One of my favorite things is having you sit on my lap while I read to you. You snuggle in and you actually sit still for a spell, and I swear it's like magic. Dada has started reading The Chronicles of Narnia with you, and it's just so precious to see you sit on his lap and listen to his voice while you stroke your Giraffey's tail. Let's keep this up, okay, baby dude?

Full of snuggles. This is amazing and wonderful. You were born an anti-snuggler, and now you enjoy cuddles. I didn't know a baby could switch, but you did, and I adore when you put your head on my shoulder and softly pat my back. You're a good cuddle buddy.

Full of love. You are the sweetest little boy. You've taught me that it's possible to both be frustrated by and super smitten with a tiny human in equal measure. You've stretched me in so many ways, including my heart and capacity to love. You're my best little buddy and I thank my lucky stars that I get to be your Momma.

You are full of such intelligence, I can see it in your eyes. You're nervous around crowds and you definitely have your favorite people (and giraffes), but you have such a capacity to love.  Keep your spunk and determination. The world is your oyster, bubba, and you'll go far.

decorating my walls

This post is not for the faint-of-heart:

I'm about to talk a lot about stuff that might be deemed "boring" by some folks,

so if you don't want to read about shopping for stuff to hang in my living room,

go ahead and skip until you see pictures.

I've been spring cleaning of late. Quite a bit on Friday. That's mostly what I did with my day off, people. But don't weep for me (I know you're not--mostly you're annoyed with me for having every Friday off, but whatever); it needed to be done, so I did it.

I also started making "crusty bread" on Friday evening; you have to let the dough sit for 12-18 hours. It's the easiest bread recipe I've ever tried, and it. is. delicious. (Especially when you dip it in raspberry balsamic vinegar with a touch of lemon olive oil. Just sayin'.)

I got up early on Saturday to finish making the breads (I made two loaves), then I ran around like a chicken with its head cut off getting last-minute things done before my folks showed up. -Except they got here before I was done with my list, so...oopsie. Mom checked out my naked living room so she could get some ideas of how to dress it up, and Dad...did other stuff. (Checked his email? I don't know.)

And then we were offski!

We went  to lunch at the Snake Bite, which was super delish, and then we went shopping at a few places near downtown. To look for awesome stuff to put on my walls.

We went to a Shabby-to-Chic type place and I purchased a few things there. Dad walked in ahead of us, and I said to Mom, "I give dad 60 seconds to be bored of this place." Five minutes later, he told us he was bored, and are we about done? I told him, "You lasted longer than I thought you would," and he said something about, "I waited a few minutes before I mentioned anything to you." Do I know my father, or what? -The store is ridiculously fun if you have two X chromosomes, so Mom and I obviously weren't done that soon; I told Dad he could walk by the river. He came back before we were quite finished.

After that, we went to a bazaar right next door, and Dad promptly got bored there, too. He did wander around a bit longer, finding blocks with cute sayings that he figured my mom might like, but the poor fellow was bored stupid within 10 minutes. So he called his younger brother Shawn, who lives in town. And Shawn totally saved the day; he showed up and "rescued" my dad from Craft Shop Craziness, and Mom and I were able to look around unhindered by the tall bald man looking at us all forlorn-like. (Thanks again for "rescuing" my dad, Uncle Shawn! You're the hero!)

We only hit one more store after the bazaar. Mom found a fun, gigantic painting to hang on my wall; we weren't sure exactly where to put it on my wall at home, but I couldn't walk away from it.

I carried that painting under my armpit as it rested on the top of my foot to the checkout line while Mom looked around a bit more, and I couldn't help but think that there was no way this painting would fit in my folks' car.  I made my purchase and then laughed right out loud as Mom and I tried to carefully make it fit into the Jetta.

It. Didn't. Fit.

Mom said she'd stay with the painting while Dad and I went to get my car (a Nissan Altima, with a much larger back seat). We left her there outside the store as the wind raged. Without a cell phone. (She has one, but left it at home.) We hit every red light, and it took us a long time to get back to her with my car. (Probably 20 minutes, and I only live 2 miles away from where we left her.)

The painting didn't fit in my car, either.

No, really.

The picture was too big by about an inch and a half, if we wanted to shut the door (which is absolutely what we wanted).

That's when my dad volunteered to walk that damn painting to my house. Two miles away. (Let it be noted: the painting is light-weight. But let it also be noted that it's freakishly large, and the wind was blowing.)

I just measured my painting, guys. It's 39" by 59".

Thanks, Dad, for walking my painting home. In the wind. You are the hero.

Mom and I got home before Dad by, like, 25 minutes, probably. So we got to work hanging a shelf up in my room. (We didn't want to start hanging any of the rest of my purchases on the living room walls until we got the painting home. You understand.)

Dad walked in and said he was about to pass out, and that he should probably eat some carbs, stat. (Dad is diabetic, see.) I gave him a little handful of Cadbury eggs and had him sit down for a bit.

WOW, I'm long-winded!

I know it's too late for  the "long story, short" thing, but I'll condense it from here on out: Mom helped me figure out what should go where, and my living room looks so much better now! After we finished hanging everything, I fed my folks some delicious crockpot cheesy taco soup with homemade crusty bread (dipped in raspberry balsamic with a touch of lemon olive oil)...and then my folks headed back to Brigham City.

I know Mom and I nearly killed Dad from boredom. And then from my ginormous painting. But I had a stellar weekend, and I'm glad I was able to spend time with my folks. They're awesome people, and I miss seeing them on a more regular basis.

Here are two rather hastily-taken pictures of some of my new walls:

The black word on the dining room wall says "Delish"
Mom said, "It's totally a Gina word."
Then there's the freakishly large painting, roosting garishly between dining and living.

And here's a shelf I bought at that Shabby-to-Chic store. I LOVE IT.

I am sincerely content with my newly dressed walls. They were outright barren before, and the giant, untouched space between the dining and living rooms was dreary to my soul.

Aaaanyway.

This was one of the loaves of crusty bread I made Friday/Saturday.
Ri-dang-diculously delish.

And this happened Friday evening.

I thought about taking a picture or two of Mom, Dad and me on Saturday, but that was before I realized I wasn't wearing any makeup.

Not one stitch of it.

I'd been out in a number of very public places for roughly 3 hours before I looked in a mirror and realized that my face was as naked as my walls at home. I chastised my parents for letting me out of the house in such a state: Dad hadn't noticed at all (no real surprise there); Mom noticed, but she thought I knew and that I was fine with it, "because it's Saturday." I mean...ugh.

Here's the worst part, though: I was walking around the bazaar, looking at this and that, when I looked up and saw a tall and handsome stranger walking towards me. He looked at me and smiled, and I totally smiled back (because that's how I "flirt" without coming off...wrong). I thought we had a moment, you know? But now I can't help but think that smile must've been a figment of my imagination, you know? Because I feel gremlin-esque sans makeup. I don't wear a ton of foundation anyway, but since I can't wear mascara any more, I never leave the house without at least a bit of shadow and liner. 

 ^ THAT ^ is me being dramatic. I went the entire day without makeup, and it was a really good day so it doesn't even matter.

My weekend was stupendous, I love my house, and my parents are the best. I'm a very lucky girl.